Belong
by that lionhearted vagabond
Summary: Bravery, that's what Gryffindor was known for, but right now though, sitting under her covers with a flashlight and a copy of Magical Theory, by Adalbert Waffling, Lily Evans didn't feel very brave.


**A/N Hey, So right now, as I'm typing this, it is half past two in the morning, and I'm on a caffeine high, I'm just now realizing that I may have a problem. . . . anyway I'm writing chapter 5 of ****A Legend**, **but I thought of this and had to write it. This is a kinda sorta prequel to ****A Legend**** 'cause it introduces how Alice, Marlene and Lily met. Other than that it's completely different. It's angsty (I know I'm sorry, I don't mean to make my characters suffer, but whenever I sit down to write it comes out as angst, I can't help it) but it has a happy ending. The Nott I refer to in this chapter is neither Theodore Nott, who is in Harry's year, nor his father, who, according to Harry Potter Wiki, joined Voldemort in 1955, making him quite a bit older than Lily. He is however evil, or will be in the near future, pretend he's Nott seniors dead brother or something.**

_**Belong**_

Bravery. That's what Gryffindor was known for. The Sorting Hat had placed her in Gryffindor, the house of the brave. Right now though, sitting under her covers with a flashlight and a copy of _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling, she wasn't so sure it had been right.

She could remember that night, the terror and panic that had escalated out of control as she stood among the sea of frightened eleven year olds. Of course the feeling had been intermingled with that of excitement and pure unadulterated _joy, _but it was hard to really feel the latter due to the ridiculous rumors that had been spreading around her like wildfire; of course she didn't know they were ridiculous at the time, being a muggle-born and all that. This of course, had not helped the tumbling of her stomach and the erratic beating of her heart.

She remembered vividly, how relieved she had been when she caught sight of the tattered old hat, and heard the explanation of its purpose. She was still of course, too nervous too truly appreciate the Sorting Hat's rather brilliant song; a pity, they said it was always best your first year.

That night hadn't even been a year ago, but it felt too Lily like a couple dozen lifetimes. It had been that night that she was really and truly been accepted into the Wizarding World. Sure she'd been to Diagon Alley too pick up her supplies and such, and sure maybe she'd learned about magic when she was around nine, but that night, September 1st, 1972, that had been the night when she had realized that she had belonged. That night was when her doubts about being a witch had evaporated, her fear of being sent home, that the whole thing had been a dream, or worse, a mistake, disappeared like smoke.

She knew she was magical of course, but magical enough to go to Hogwarts? That had been an entirely different matter. Then she'd had that conversation with the Hat, as it sat on her head, partially covering her face, it had asked her which house she wanted to be in, and she had replied, oh so naively, that she didn't care, as long as this was real. It had laughed then, an odd sound, considering it was in her head. It had shouted out Gryffindor next, the house of the brave. She had fancied herself brave just then, as she walked towards the last table in the hall, or the first, depending on how you look at it, as she listened to all the lions, who were clapping and cheering, or in some cases, staring dreamily at the empty plates before them. She had felt at home then, for the first time in a long time, for the first time since that fateful day at the park.

Now though, right at that moment, she wasn't so sure, for Gryffindor was the house of the brave, and Lily didn't feel very brave. Sure she was brave at school, at home, she wasn't quite sure when Hogwarts had become home to her, but that's certainly what it was, standing up to the likes of bullies, even if bullying was something entirely new to her. She had been a fairly popular child growing up, sure there had been the occasional "Carrot head" remark, but overall she was a fairly popular kid. So to be mocked and insulted because of her heritage, because of her _blood_, that had been something entirely foreign to her.

She had dealt with it though. Sure it had taken some screaming, and threatening, if empty, wand movements, and in the worst case scenarios a hard shove, or a quick well aimed kick, but she had dealt with it. Well the majority of it anyway.

She'd earned respect as well; she had become Evans, the girl with the fierce, red-headed temper. Lily snorted quietly to herself, careful not to wake Petunia, who slept across the room, across the invisible line that Petunia had made quite clear she was not to cross.

What would her admirers (as well as her fearers) think of her now, resorting to doing her homework in the dead of night, under her covers, to avoid confrontation with her sister, barely three years her senior (and not nearly as big as some of the boys she'd continuously stood up to last year).

Petunia, at fifteen, didn't have many friends, and those she did have were away on holiday (respectable, non-freakish holiday so Lily had been informed), so she was left to sulk around the house, which she did with a certain, almost artful, expertise, shrieking about Lily and her freakishness (Lily really wished she's come up with another word, _freak_, was getting repetitive) whenever she saw a spell book, or a wand, even a quill could set her off. On these occasions, Mr. and Mrs. Evans would look at their youngest child apologetically, asking her politely to put whatever it was that she was working on away. Lily always complied, slinking away too her room, or to the garden shed out back, which remained relatively cool.

Doing her schoolwork outside was out of the question, it was much too hot to even consider leaving the safety of her air conditioned home, except for quick runs to the corner store for ice cream, or lemonade, or a quick journey to the garden shed, which was much to grubby to do assignments in. Besides where would she go? The library was closed due to remodeling, and Sev's place, she had been informed, was not an altogether pleasant place to be. There was something to be thankful for, as bad as things may be with her sister, at least her family situation wasn't as horrible as Severus'. Lily winced in sympathy for her best friend; his home life couldn't be fun.

So she was left to do her schoolwork at home, but not during the day, she couldn't even barricade herself in her room, half of it (exactly half) belonged to Petunia. So that left at night, quietly, by flashlight, under her covers, careful not to wake Petunia, who had always been a light sleeper. Gryffindor, Right. She couldn't even stand up to her own sister. The statement sounded bitter, even to her own ears.

Maybe she would have been able to stand up to Petunia if she wasn't Tuney, little, stubborn, blonde, Tuney. Except that wasn't right, her sister hadn't let her call her Tuney in years, not since she'd found out about . . . . Lily let the though trail off, she didn't want to think about it.

Magic had been by far, the best thing that had ever happened to her. She was still fairly new to the world where she belonged, simple, mundane things, still managed to fill her with an awe of an intensity she couldn't possibly even begin to describe. Hogwarts had been the place where she'd met two of the closest friends she'd ever had (excluding Severus, he had been the one to initially tell her about magic, how could you possibly repay someone who told you who you really were?), Alice and Marlene. Alice, who'd first seen the lonely little red-head, and shown her around, and Marlene, a pixie like blonde, who'd backed her up against a huge, apelike, Slytherin sixth year. Near death experiences pull people together, and it had been a close call that day. It helped of course, that Marlene shared a dorm with her. It was quite convenient actually.

Lily wished, more than anything else in the world, that her sister could share the breathtaking journey with her, but she couldn't, because she was a muggle, and that was that, end of story. No number of kindly written letters would change that.

So maybe if Petunia wasn't her sister Lily would have stood up to her. Unfortunately though, Petunia was her sister, and she had, once upon a time, been Tuney, so Lily didn't stand up to her. Lily did her summer homework, at two O'clock in the morning, by flashlight, quietly as a mouse, under her lilac colored sheets. She couldn't really see that changing anytime soon. Some Gryffindor she'd turn out to be.

**. . .**

_Four Months later_

Gryffindor was up against Ravenclaw, fifty to ninety, Potter, a second year like herself, had scored almost half of the lion's nine goals, an amazing feat. Unfortunately, none of that would matter if Dorcas Meadowes, Gryffindor's, slight, seventh year seeker, didn't catch the Golden Snitch. Considering that Ravenclaw's seeker, Darren Watsbee was twenty yards ahead of her, and had the Snitch in his sight, the event was rather unlikely.

It was, in this moment of suspense that Nott decided to make his appearance. Randolph Nott, who was a year older than Lily, was one of the few bullies she hadn't been able to shake off. Nott was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them, so what the hell was he doing in Gryffindor's end of the pitch, outnumbered one to more than Lily cared to count? It was then that Lily realized the brilliance of his plan, no one was watching him, they were all glued to Meadowes and Watsbee, who were edging closer to the snitch by the second.

Suddenly Nott's breathe was right by her ear, of course out of all the people he could possibly be targeting, it had to be her.

"Hey little Mudblood-" Lily then did what any other reasonable person would have done had they been in her situation, or so she reasoned with herself, she shoved him. His fall probably wouldn't have been as spectacular as it was had they not been standing at the very top of the stands, but they were. So he tumbled down the stairs, quite unceremoniously, and landed in a heap at the edge of the quidditch pitch.

This, as you can imagine, caused quite uproar, in fact, several people screamed. Now I don't know about you, but when Darren Watsbee hears someone scream he reflexively turns to see what the commotion is, which gave Meadowes the opportunity she needed to swerve around him and grab the Snitch.

The whole Gryffindor house burst into cheers, standing up and screaming at the top of their lungs. Dorcas Meadowes was boosted up onto her teammate's shoulders, and up in the crowd Lily was in the air as well, having been given credit for the distraction. It was times like these that Lily knew she belonged. The Sorting Hat had been right (it always was) Lily Evans belonged in Gryffindor, the house of the brave.


End file.
